miss fortune mystery (ff) - jewel of the bayou Read Online Free Page B

the important thing was to get her out of the house, and back into the church. I imagined that Gertie and Ida Belle would be able to take it from there.
    “Well, that’s fine,” Gertie said, and she turned toward the door as Mrs. Langstrom took a sip of water and then handed the glass back to me without bothering to look to make sure that I was there to grab it. Of course, I was. “I’m sure we’ll all look forward to seeing you then.”
    “Yes,” Mrs. Langstrom said, almost to herself. “I’ll need to think about what to wear. Of course, I’ll wear mother’s bloodstone. I think that people would expect it.”
    “Bloodstone?” I repeated, and Ida Belle groaned.
    “That stone,” she said. “Don’t get her started. Come on, Gertie. Haul me back to town. I’ve got things I need to get done.”
    “Yes, mother’s bloodstone,” Mrs. Langstrom said, and she both looked at me and looked through me. “It’s just such a striking piece. Mother was a debutante in New Orleans, you know, and it was a gift from her father when she came out. Goodness! It made such a stir at the time. The papers really covered society in those days. Truly, I can feel the years long gone by when I wear that piece. Why, one time…”
    “Gertie!” Ida Belle was at the door, and almost shouting. “Get a move on! We need to leave before she takes that damn stone out, and makes us all admire it.”
    “Good-bye, Gladys,” Gertie said, and she followed Ida Belle out the door. “We’ll see you tomorrow!”
    “That stone,” Mrs. Langstrom said in a faraway voice, and then she turned to me. “Get me my wrap. I’m feeling chill. And then go put on some tea. I need to think.”
    I headed to the parlor, doing some thinking of my own about my Sinful Sunday.
                               
     

Chapter Five
     
    Another day, another crazy driver. Clearly it was time to insist on doing the driving myself. Maybe it’s something in the water, maybe it’s something about whoever taught them to drive, but when the people in this town get behind a wheel they get plain batty.
    Mrs. Langstrom had purchased her Oldsmobile back in the good ol’ days, and she’d somehow kept it in pristine condition in a tumbledown carriage house back toward the bayou. A layer of dust showed that it hadn’t been driven in a while, but apparently someone come by every so often to start it up and rotate the tires and check the oil, and it was in good running condition.
    Much better condition than Mrs. Langstrom’s driving skills.
    When she had said that she would be coming into town for her portrait, I had assumed that she would be making a quick afternoon trip of it. But what is it they say happens when you ‘assume’? I should have known. If there was a chance to make a production out of something, Mrs. Langstrom wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her by.
    “The golden hour is the most important thing, Lindy,” she’d said that morning. “There’s just something about the light as the sun is about to set that makes everything magical. That’s the time to sit for a portrait. When the light is at its best.”
    I spent most of the day going through her closets, grabbing outfits that she thought would work, and putting them back almost as soon as I had taken them out. Finally she settled on a high-necked polyester dress in a brassy shade of bronze. I’m not sure that it would put her on the best dressed list in most places, but Sinful isn’t your usual sort of town.
    Finally dressed, primped, and ready to go, we got into the Olds and hit the road.
    We very, very slowly hit the road.
    I hadn’t set any land speed records when I had walked to church the day before, but I don’t think there’s any doubt that I could have outpaced Mrs. Langstrom. “Better safe than sorry,” she said as we crept along, and she may have felt safe, but I was beginning to feel sorry.
    Fortunately, there’s not enough traffic in Sinful to do more than